Hero and Human
by brainandheart
Summary: Just days after bringing back summer, Elsa struggles to confront her father's complex legacy. But, to her surprise, she doesn't have to do it alone.


**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I probably don't own it. I do own the lieutenant, though.**

* * *

Elsa, queen regnant of the kingdom of Arendelle and mistress of ice and snow, was…signing reports. After putting them off for several days to spend time with her sister, she had been working on them for most of the day, and a dull ache was growing behind her eyes. She wished the reports in front of her were of accounts, expenses, even taxes. Numbers, after all, were straightforward and orderly. Numbers always made sense.

She felt her father's eyes on her from his place on the wall alongside the other portraits of Arendelle's rulers, and heard his voice as she had so many times, _We all have our duty to this kingdom, and we must do it without complaint._

With a sigh, she refocused on the reports. It was certainly not a fun part of being queen, but in a way it was comfortable, or perhaps _familiar_ would be a better term. It was the only aspect of her duties that she had been able to fulfill in those three years between her parents' passing and her official coronation. Signing off on festivals she would never attend, approving trade agreements between people she'd never met. She was used to it.

A sudden knock on the door made her look up. She frowned. Gerda had already come by with supper an hour earlier, and she wasn't entirely sure if Anna would ever knock again. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "Enter."

A man wearing the livery of the Arendelle Royal Guard hesitantly stepped into the room. He bowed. "Your Majesty, I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but my shift has only just ended, and I would seek an audience with you, if I may."

Elsa tried not to look too relieved as she shuffled the paperwork to the side. In the next moment she sobered, absorbing what the guard had said. His wording had the careful tone and formality of something rehearsed, and she had a feeling she knew what the man had come to her to say. Several members of the Guard had already been by in the past few days. "Certainly, I have the time."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He approached her desk, and Elsa noticed that he was rather young, at most only a year or two older than she was. She remembered seeing him around the castle, but only vaguely, meaning that he was probably one of the men who had been hired in the months leading up to her coronation.

When he seemed unsure of how to begin, she took the initiative. "Your name?"

"Josef Berg." He immediately cringed, closing his eyes briefly. He cleared his throat before continuing in a firm tone, "I mean, Lieutenant Josef Berg, son of Sir Henrik Berg, Your Majesty."

His expression was stoic, but she could see a red flush creeping up past his collar. She suppressed a smile. "You had something you wished to speak to me about, Lieutenant?"

He nodded quickly, whether to acknowledge her statement or to thank her for redirecting the conversation, she didn't know. "Your Majesty, I know the captain has already formally apologized for our actions four days ago, but I didn't think it was right to go on without adding my own personal apology."

Elsa was not surprised in the least by his speech, and she softened her expression to reassure him. "As I told the captain, I accept the apology with the same good grace with which it was given, but I do not wholly accept that it was necessary."

"I turned against the Crown, and I blindly followed a man who wanted to harm you and the princess. I don't know if that should be forgiven," he added, his own expression a tad miserable.

"Lieutenant, it must have been a confusing time, and I see how under the circumstances it would have been difficult to see me as anything other than a threat to the welfare of the kingdom. As for that…man, well, you couldn't have known. Now," she paused, and struggled to keep up her air of detached benevolence as she continued. It still hurt that one of her men wanted to leave, even if he was not the first to do so. "If you feel you must resign, I will accept that as well."

Lieutenant Berg looked startled. "No, I—I'm not resigning."

To say she was thrown off balance would be an understatement. "Oh."

Horror dawned on his features. "Unless you wanted—"

"No, of course not!"

For a moment, the two simply stared in mutual silence and awkwardness, before Lieutenant Berg seemed to remember where he was. He cleared his throat, bowed, and mumbled, "Thank you, Your Majesty," before turning towards the door.

Elsa rose from her chair behind the desk. "Lieutenant?"

He turned.

"Why?" she blurted. As his eyebrows twitched in surprise, she felt herself reddening and closed her eyes briefly to compose herself. "It's only that, of the three other members of the Guard who have asked to see me, all three resigned, saying they felt too guilty to continue their service. You obviously feel guilty too, so I just wondered what was different in your case."

The lieutenant seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he shrugged and laughed softly. "My father always taught me to fix my mistakes. I wouldn't exactly be doing that if I resigned, would I?"

It was such a small thing; the guard himself obviously meant it to be a casual throwaway comment, but it resonated deeply within Elsa. Before she could stop herself, she said quietly, "My father taught me to hide."

The words hung in the air like the aftermath of one of her storms. Lieutenant Berg had a cautious look on his face, like he wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard what she said. Elsa herself was shocked at how much bitterness dripped from her whispered words. For eighteen years she had turned to her father, trusting that he knew what to do, that somehow he had the answers. She realized now that there had been a tangled ball of pain and grief and yes, bitterness, which had resided in her chest ever since they—and especially he—had died. Ever since their deaths, inadvertent as they were, had left her truly, utterly alone with no real way out.

She should have stopped there, should have composed herself and dismissed the lieutenant, but it was as if she had suddenly unfrozen a raging river. Just a couple of nights ago, she and Anna had been talking, and Anna had jokingly admitted that she felt like she had a curse of her own, forced to blab and ramble on when it would have been best to keep quiet. Now Elsa had to wonder if it was contagious, because the words were gushing out of her, and she couldn't stop them. "He—he believed that a ruler's duty was to set an example for everyone else, and he believed in perfection, or at least putting on a good show of it. I had to conceal who I was, bury anything that might lead to…an outburst. Most of all, I _always_ had to be the good girl. He was afraid of what would happen if I ever revealed the truth, thought that people would fear me and turn away, even try to hurt me."

Her lips curled up in a sad smile. "He wasn't entirely wrong on that one."

Lieutenant Berg, who had been silent up to now, spoke up tentatively. "Was he ashamed of you, then?"

Although she didn't move an inch, it felt as though she had stumbled. Ashamed? No, as far as she could remember, her father had been worried, at times sad or even scared, but, "No, not ashamed. He wanted to protect me."

"It…it sounds to me like he was doing what he thought was best."

That was the crux of it though, wasn't it? Because Elsa knew that, too. Even at her angriest, her most grieving, she had never been able to forget that her father, her _papa_, did love her, and he only wanted to help her. Yes, it hurt to find out that he had been so wrong all this time, but then, so had she.

It was she who had let guilt and fear overwhelm and control her. It was she who had shied away from her father's touch, her mother's embrace. It was she who had left her kingdom and her sister behind, hoping to save them, but instead nearly dooming them. In doing what she thought was best for those she loved, she had almost severed all chance of healing.

"Parents and princesses, they make mistakes as much as any other person, don't they?" Elsa mused. She knew it was inane, but she had to say it. Lieutenant Berg simply nodded, but there was understanding in his eyes. The tightness in her chest came loose, finally reconciling her heroic and loving papa with the proud and tragically mistaken king. Beneath the king, beneath even the father, he was just a man, a thought that was simultaneously painful and comforting. And somehow this guard she had never spoken to before today knew what she was trying to say. Her vision blurred, but she ducked her head, blinking back the tears.

As soon as she had composed herself she looked up, only to find that Lieutenant Berg's eyes were politely averted. Embarrassment coursed through her, which only got worse when she realized that the temperature in the study had dropped dramatically and her desk had tendrils of icy frost reaching out from where her hands rested. Immediately, she eased up, drawing away the ice and letting the temperature return to normal. She wished she could banish her emotions as easily, but it seemed like those were not as simple to rein in. Let it go, indeed. She breathed in deeply and cleared her throat. "I apologize, Lieutenant. That was completely inappropriate. I…I would appreciate it if this did not leave this room."

"Of course." He nodded, and seemed to wrestle with something for a moment. His chin lifted suddenly, the sharp gesture at odds with the compassion still evident in his eyes. "But you should know, Your Majesty, that it will be an honor to serve you."

Startled but warmed, Elsa couldn't stop a faint smile from breaking out across her face even through her mortification. No one but Anna had expressed any support or belief in her in years. "Thank you, Lieutenant. And not just for that."

With a small smile of his own, Lieutenant Berg bowed one last time, and despite the fact that the man had just seen his sovereign break down, Elsa couldn't shake the feeling that it was less a bow of formality and more one of true respect.


End file.
